Seduction Breeds
by trouble in my veins
Summary: Rejected, the youngest Weasleys comfort each other. RonGinny. HBP spoilers. Complete. Warnings: incest, chan. Implied RHr & HG.
1. Part One

**Seduction Breeds**

**by Nina**

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Harry Potter I would be busy accidentally spilling plot secrets to my fans.  
**Dedication:** This goes to Cassie, who let me borrow her Shakespeare muse. She also read it first and is my best friend and occasional worst enemy. Cassie, this is for you.  
**Beta:** Sioniann, this story would be nothing without you. THANK YOU."_And here I know seduction breeds from wanton hearts that would seduce, and grows and spreads its vine and leaves, embracing those who might have moved. But now remain to drink the night from vials black and thick with steam. Such intoxicating delights would leave you drunk inside this dream. And you watch them take the light from you."_ –"A Poetic Retelling of an Unfortunate Seduction" by Bright Eyes

* * *

Careful glances in the hallways made him realize what the other boys saw in her; a full figure, a mischievous smile. She had a look in her eyes that suggested she was thinking about you and _only_ you, and that her mind was filled with dirty thoughts that made her tingle when she looked at you. That, he thought, was enough to make any boy feel special.

Her hands were graceful, reaching for the gravy boat at dinner, pushing flyaway flames of hair from her face.

He knew he loved her.

"Your move," Ginny said, staring at the chessboard where her only remaining pawn trembled in fear diagonally from Ron's bishop. Ron studied the board carefully for a couple of moments before running his hands through his hair in exasperation.

"Ginny, how many times do I have to tell you? The object of the game is to take the king. You just keep running around the board!"

"Maybe I'd be able to take your king if your pieces stopped pulverizing mine!"

Ron's eyebrows shot up and he fought back the impulse to laugh. He had been trying to teach his sister how to play chess from the time he had learned himself, but she had never caught on and always had to be reminded that she couldn't move into check.

"If you had moved your rook to the side you would have me in check. But since you didn't—" Ron called for his queen to move in front of Ginny's king (which he had cleverly surrounded with various pieces) and called out jubilantly, "checkmate!"

Brows knitting together, Ginny wrinkled her nose and yawned. Twilight was pressing dangerously at the windows, a summer twilight spread with stars and perfumed with apples, but neither of the siblings noticed until they looked up. And then, as if meant intentionally to disturb the quietness Ron and Ginny had sat so peacefully in, two cracksresounded in the kitchen.

"Ginny, Ron, wonderful to see you!"

"Absolutely _terrific_!"

"We would have thought to bring you presents, you know—"

"—but we'd rather you buy something at the shop." Fred and George took seats at the kitchen table and Fred picked up a chocolate biscuit and bit into it.

"What brings you here?" Ginny questioned interestedly, pulling her legs into her chair and sitting on them. George began to relate to Ginny how they had just come to retrieve a few boxes to take back to the store. ("Maybe we could put a few unsavory items in dear Fleur's bed," Fred quipped to Ginny's delight.) Ron stood.

"I'm going to bed," he said warily, making his way towards the stairs.

"But we just got here, little brother! George and I thought we could all sit together and talk like old times."

"Yeah Ron, please? It's been a long time since the four of us all sat and just talked," Ginny was leaning with her elbows on the table, looking thoroughly convincing, and though Ron was highly compelled to stay, he shook his head.

"No, Hermione will go mad if I'm not up at the crack of dawn to help her research H—stuff."

"Whatever you say," Ginny replied, turning to her other brothers and imitating Fleur's accent, repeating something the woman had complained about at lunch that day. A smile spread across Ron's face as he made his way into his room, where Hermione already lay asleep in a cot near the window.

* * *

"Ron?" the voice was familiar and cautioned, and came from what seemed like miles off. Raising his head groggily, Ron saw Hermione's face looming above him. "Are you awake?" 

"No, Hermione, I'm not awake," he mumbled, sitting up and squinting his eyes. Hermione went to fold her cot into the corner of the room, her hair falling in curtains in front of her face when she leaned down to straighten a wrinkle in the blanket. She seemed to be glistening in the morning light.

"Would you quit staring at me and get dressed? We have lots of research on Horcruxes to do if we're going to be of any use to Harry." Her cheeks were tinged a slight pink as she snatched a few items of clothing from her trunk. She exited with an air of reluctance, the last note of on which Ron began his day, stretching his arms over his head.

He caught sight of red hair swishing around the corner, and felt a tenseness coursing through him, and memories of tickle-fights and games of prince-and-princess were running through his head as if a dam had broken, and in thinking of leaving he wondered how much he was leaving behind.

When Hermione returned, they were both dressed and she immediately began fussing about things that they needed to find out. Ron was hardly listening, blinking dumbly at her, her voice being drowned by another. '_Maybe I'd be able to take your king if your pieces stopped pulverizing mine…'_

"Are you paying attention? We have to Apparate to Grimmauld Place and look in the library to see if there are any books on Horcruxes, or anything we find helpful, really."

"And why do we have to do this _at this very moment_?"

Hermione stared incredulously. "So we can destroy Voldemort's Horcruxes efficiently and correctly. We need to do this for Harry."

Ron's face turned dark and he looked down at his shoes.

"I, er—you know. I didn't pass my Apparition test."

It looked as if the thought had just dawned upon Hermione, and she contemplated silently for a moment. "Oh, yes… and we really don't want the Ministry to have an idea of what we're doing… maybe it would be best if you stayed here."

"Oh, do I have to?" Ron solicited sarcastically.

"Well, if you're _going_ to be an ungrateful git—"

"Fine, fine. Go. Just, Hermione?"

"Hm?" she already had her eyes closed and her body poised to Apparate. He could practically hear her thinking, _Destination. Determination. Deliberation._

"Be careful. Don't—don't do anything er—dangerous."

"Okay," Hermione whispered, her brows knitting together, whether in thought about Apparating or his sudden expression of concern, Ron didn't know, and then with a crack, she was gone.

* * *

**A/N:** Very much edited. Thank you Sioniann! 


	2. Part Two

**Seduction Breeds**

**by Nina**

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Harry Potter I would be busy accidentally spilling plot secrets to my fans.  
**Dedication:** This goes to Cassie, who let me borrow her Shakespeare muse. She also read it first and is my best friend and occasional worst enemy. Cassie, this is for you.  
**Beta:** Sioniann. Love to you.

* * *

Ron hurried down the stairs to find the kitchen empty save for his sister, who was busy tucking into her breakfast. Through a mouthful of pancake she told him 'good morning' and gestured for him to join her.

"'Morning," he said, taking a bite of his breakfast. Ginny smiled and returned to her own meal. Surreptitiously, Ron looked up at her. She was shining and glowing like a waning moon, chewing on her lip and staring pensively into her coffee. Ron carefully noted that she looked tired, yet beautifully so; delicate, pale, freckled.

"Ron. Ron, you're buttering your hand." Ginny put her coffee down to giggle at him. "Something on your mind?"

"No," he said, still staring at her, wiping his hand. He was now taking her curves in, analyzing every hill of her body. Her scent was flowery, a bit of what he had smelled once in Potions over a cauldron filled with something that had a name he couldn't quite pronounce. Immediately he made himself stop thinking about her, feelingabsolutely nauseated that he had been thinking about his sister in that way. He focused all his attention on buttering his toast correctly.

"Okay," she said, her voice constricted and small, as if coming from the bottom of a very narrow well.

There seemed to be no rift in time between the moment she was looking away to the moment she was in his arms and crying into his chest. Her hands, long and delicate, were gripping his back, pulling at his shirt, while she let out a long, inhuman cry. Ron was cradling her against his body, and could feel the vibrations of her moans all the way inside of himself.

"I wish I hadn't agreed with him," she mumbled into her brother's shirt.

"What do you—agreed with who about what?" Ron held her at arms' length, the girl a blibbering, red mess.

"With Harry!" Ginny wiped her eyes and let her arms fall limply to Ron's legs. "He said that You-Know-Who would find out about the two of us and use it to his advantage, and that we couldn't be together," she cried into his shirt again, heaving great sobs against his ribcage.

Ron's emotions were conflicted. In saving her life, the person his sister loved had broken her like a hapless child would a china doll—yet he couldn't help feeling a slight twinge of happiness. Ginny's hands were finding their way to his neck.

"Wouldn't you rather be living? You two could get together after all this is over," and though he didn't know why, he felt strangely bitter while saying it. Ginny's hands dropped once more when Ron wiped away a few tears that had been dripping down her face like rain on a window. Another tear curved as it fell over her chin.

Ginny gathered herself and unfolded from Ron's lap, clearing away both of their breakfasts so quickly Ron had no time to admire her movement as she did so. His stomach jolted uneasily. _What are you thinking?_ He asked himself darkly. _That's your bleeding sister! Bloody hell! __Think about something else… Chudley Cannons. Chudley Cannons. Chudley. Cannons._

"I'll be upstairs," murmured Ginny, mainly to herself, maybe to tell herself that was really where she'd be.

Ron shut his eyes forcefully. _Chudley Cannons._

* * *

Hermione returned three hours after she had left, appearing against the orange walls, empty-handed and downtrodden. Ron looked up from _Quidditch Through the Ages_ to see her massaging her temples and coming to sit beside him.

"Did you find anything?" he inquired, closing the book to look at her. In the afternoon light she appeared gray and harassed, her lips chapped and hair disheveled.

"No, even Dark books deem Horcruxes as taboo—but it's a fine way _you're_ helping," Hermione snapped. "Why haven't you been looking for things?"

"Right, because my house is filled with books on Dark magic," Ron intoned darkly, "oh, wait. I haven't checked Percy's old room yet…"

"Honestly, Ron. You could have started packing or getting things out of the way for when we go off with Harry." Hermione pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and pulled both of her legs on the bed. "But I do think I've found something important."

From her pocket she pulled a large, golden locket, intricate markings around the edges and a large 'S' on the front. One of the hinges was broken, and it had a large crack down the middle, as if a little earthquake had torn it apart. Hermione dropped it into Ron's palm and he examined it for a moment, his eyes growing wide.

"Bloody hell! This is—Hermione, you've found the locket!"

Beaming, Hermione nodded. "I found it wedged between two books in the library… I was thinking— the initials on the note Harry found were 'R.A.B.', right? Sirius' brother's name was Regulus Black. If his middle name began with an 'A', we may have found our man." She appeared pleased with herself and took the locket back, dropping it in the pocket of her jeans.

"But wasn't Regulus a Death Eater? I mean, why would he want to go against You-Know-Who?" For once, Hermione didn't try and force Ron into saying the Dark Lord's name, but rushed breathlessly into her rebuttal.

"He was killed though, wasn't he? Maybe Voldemort killed him because he destroyed the Horcrux," Hermione concluded, folding her hands in her lap.

"Yeah, maybe…" Ron trailed into ellipsis as if he was weighing the situation, but instead his eyes fell upon her lips. Slowly, he bridged the gap between them and closed his mouth upon hers, the two of them entwined for seconds that lasted longer than they should. Red hair was swaying in the sun, pink lips were pouting, for a moment, Hermione wasn't Hermione, and Ron didn't mind.

Hermione broke from Ron and stared dubiously at him.

"I am sitting here explaining to you what could be the fate of the Wizarding World, and all you can think of is kissing me?"

"Didn't you—didn't you like it?" mumbled Ron (his ears were now so red it looked as if he were in unbearable pain.)

"I… Ron, I did." To his astonishment her eyes were slowly filling up with tears, and every time she blinked they fell and made trails down her skin. "But this isn't the time to be getting close. I don't think we should talk about this again." She got up from the bed and trudged toward the door. Ron had the impulse to go after her, but stayed where he was, watching long after the moment she had left the room, her presence still strong on the air—books, dust, and an unusual perfume.

* * *

In the days following, Hermione slept in Ginny's room as if it had been a violent attack and not a kiss, and Ron could hear them giggling through the walls and was instantly jealous, all parts of him tingling with want. Maybe if he hadn't been so stupid, one of them would be his. He ran through hundreds of 'what ifs' and 'maybes', each resolution so much better than the last, until he had dashed all hope of looking for any bright side.

Ron noticed that when going down the narrow staircase, Ginny would brush against him and her scent—flowers and cinnamon—seemed to melt into him until all he could think about was her and the secret things she must wonder to herself before falling asleep (the things that follow her to her dreams and remain only as a blush on her cheeks by morning).

"I'm on duty now, and your father won't be home until late tonight, so _do_ be careful," Mrs. Weasley implored of her children and Hermione, hugging the three in turn before turning to leave. Once her absence had been established for a few moments, Hermione decided to go and look in other rooms at Grimmauld Place ("you never know what you might find, I could have missed things, you know…"), leaving Ron and Ginny alone.

It was in those moments that Ron thought about leaving, not able to see his sister anymore, cut off from news of the family. Ginny swung her long hair behind her and bit down on her lip, staring out the window with a hand on her hip, and Ron was painfully reminded that this was his sister. Lovely, yes. Kind, yes. But family, a terrain so dangerously unmentionable that it seemed to be hardly worth it. _Your effing sister. Stop thinking, you unhinged git!_

"Want to play chess?" Ron asked his sister, gesturing towards the chessboard that was still resting where it had been left the week before. Ginny seemed to consider the offer, eventually taking a seat and arranging her chessmen on each square. When the board was set up, they hesitated, hanging on to the moment where they didn't have to do anything for as long as they could.

"White moves first," Ron began gradually, "so it's your move."

Ginny studied the board, every piece in its place. Her face was flushed and she didn't move, but looked up instead. "I don't want you to leave."

Ron was dumbstruck, his mouth slightly open. "What?"

"I don't want you to go and die! You have to let me come, I don't want to go anywhere without you, Mum and Dad can't make me go back to Hogwarts, they _can't!_" She was in hysterics, her face contorted and red. Ron groaned softly.

"I have to do this, Gin. I can't desert my friends like that. It's not something I want to do, I mean, no one wants to. But it's something I have to do, you know."

Ginny nodded imperceptibly and her throat tensed. She took her queen and pushed it forward, moving other pieces out of the way (a few of them trying to hit at Ginny's hand) until it had knocked Ron's king off the board.

"What was that? Your move was completely illegal! You can't jump with your queen or take that many men—"

"You said," his sister was advancing on him now, "that the object of the game was to take the king. I took the king."

"But you're supposed to _play_ to get there!" spluttered Ron, "your move is not allowed."

"I don't want to play to get there."

* * *

**  
A/N:** Cliffhanger. Yet again, love to my beta, Sioniann. Look at her things on livejournal. They will amaze you and make you cry. Crazy good. 


	3. Part Three

**Seduction Breeds**

**by Nina**

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Harry Potter I would be busy accidentally spilling plot secrets to my fans.  
**Dedication:** This goes to Cassie, who let me borrow her Shakespeare muse. She also read it first and is my best friend and occasional worst enemy. Cassie, this is for you.  
**Beta:** Sioniann. If I could give you a thousand dollars, I would. Sadly, I have no money.

* * *

Her lips on his lips, searching for something, something she had not found in Michael or in Dean: some kind of primeval want that went beyond rights and wrongs and sense. Words were echoing through her head, '_it's your move… completely illegal…_'

Suddenly hands were on skin. Hands on lips and searching the concaves above her hips, the part of her that still looked pre-pubescent, her body a vast terrain of whiteness and bruises. Ron could draw a picture of her in only a few strokes; he could draw a picture on her stomach. Her breathing was short and quick, her flesh a desert of goose bumps, valleys between her ribs and in the shadows pooling on her skin. She was beautiful, fragmented, porcelain, like the queen on his chessboard. She was only that moment.

Ginny moved her mouth in all of the aftershocks, bucking her hips against him, his skin on her skin, so close they were one word and all passionate syllables. Her eyes were shut tight and her mouth was pulled into a grimace, but slowly it smoothed out and a look of calm fell across her face, her breathing dangerous and ragged and shallow.

(Maybe she knew she could only have him until Hermione began sleeping on the cot again like she said she would during their late night conversations.)

Ron and Ginny were entwined and exploring, and Ron observed that everything was skin as far as he could see, his lips running over pearls of sweat.

Pearls. Everything about Ginny was pearls, beads of sweat, and delicate, whimpering orgasms.

(He held her arms and her translucent wrists were maps, blue and purple roads and streets leading into her palm and up her arms. She pressed into him again.)

They stopped, their stickiness and Ginny's slightly bloodstained thighs the only indicator, their clothes slowly put back on, their minds slowly migrating to other topics. '_White moves first._' The impulse ricocheted through her, the need to fall together again, the want to rock slowly to sleep with him inside her; the memory of his moans and the evident hurt coursing through her when he didn't say her name. He had whispered "Hermione" under his breath, though a few times "Gin…" had begun to form on his lips.

She was shaking beside him, edges and edges, hipbones sticking out at the top of her skirt, angular and nervous, as if little earthquakes were tearing her apart. (Ginny was well aware that she may have been practice, but by the way she lay with Ron's arms protectively around her middle for what seemed like the space of years, she knew she had put on a good show.)

Her lips were lined with pearls, her brow furrowed. Her back was drenched and her stomach was a forest of goose bumps.

'_But you're supposed to play to get there…_'

* * *

Hermione and Ron left with Harry the day after the encounter, and soon Ginny was receiving owls from Harry signed 'With Love' and filled with hopes that were very uncharacteristic to Harry. But Ginny knew she that couldn't love him anymore.

Because Ginny knew that if she only remembered hard enough, everything would be pearls and low growls and muted shrieks until she opened her eyes again.

_

* * *

_

_In_ _her mind it __will always be that summer, herself and Ron, fragmented, for the rest of her life._

—Fin.

**A/N:** Completed. I'm quite happy with it. Thank you so much to the following people: Katemione, Sioniann, Brando, and Rachel. Without you this fic would not be here. Or anywhere. 


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